


Bitter-Sweet Chocolate Chips

by collapsingStars



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, It's a damn pine forest up in here, M/M, Mutual Pining, Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Pining, Self-Indulgent, in equal measuring cups, probably wildly self-indulgent, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21510550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collapsingStars/pseuds/collapsingStars
Summary: Akechi plugged his phone back in, and hooked it up to a speaker to play music. He tried to ignore the small bit of excitement bubbling in his chest. He was officially hanging out with Kurusu for the first time since that school festival. Akechi had been witness to Akira's superb coffee and curry - but he wondered if Akira liked to bake?What if, instead of having them over at the cafe, confidants could invite Protag over into their space for a day?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 126





	Bitter-Sweet Chocolate Chips

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I had when we were first learning about Royal Akechi’s manual confidant. I always loved it in vanilla when PT members would ask to bum it at LeBlanc with Protag all day. It’s like… such a pointless but fun way of wasting time in the game. Just like normal teenagers do. I was also sad, that unlike the anime, we never actually got to play chess with Akechi, which is what I imagine his self-invite to bum it at Leblanc would be. There are a million fics of that tho, so then I had a moment of Big Brain TimeTM and reversed it, what if PT members had Protag over instead? So, now we have the terrifying ordeal of Akechi having Protag over to become even more known in one-on-one interaction with the rebel boy of his dreams. Includes some info/interactions from the Royal.

Akechi sat in bed, and stared at the phone on his desk, and  _ struggled. _ He wasn’t needed at the police station ( “Consider it a sick day!” the SIU director had said,) Shido didn't have any targets for him, and he was supposed to be spending his “free time,” now “working” with the Phantom Thieves. The only problem is a quick text to the group chat early this morning confirmed that they weren't going to do anything today. 

He supposed it was only fair. The mementos run yesterday after school was absolutely  _ brutal _ and everyone had barely limped home with revival beads in-between their lips and some of the good doctor’s medicine in their pockets. Akechi knew Kurusu had done it on purpose; they needed to get better at fighting, since Sae's palace was extremely difficult. Even he had to admit that taking shadows head on had been difficult - he was very much used to dodging and running from them when he was on his own, or using Loki to barrel his way through. Judging by Kurusu’s actions, last night’s farce was to push Akechi in particular, to prove a point. But it was Akechi’s own damn fault and he knew it. 

First of all, it was clear that Kurusu was upset with Akechi, no matter how well they both hid it by continuing to be cordial in front of his friends. The whole situation was understandable; Kurusu became easily attached to others and quickly considered them friends worthy of his confidence, and expected to be treated in kind. Those who didn’t and didn’t respect this expectation for those he considered his friends, became targets. Simple. And Kurusu had the audacity to call that petty, gray reasoning a black and white “justice.” 

He had no doubt it challenged Kurusu’s school of thought and downright  _ hurt  _ when suddenly his “detective friend” outed him as if they didn’t know each other. As if they hadn’t spent time together on and off since June. As if Kurusu wasn’t the only person in the world who knew the most about Akechi, other than Akechi himself. As if Kurusu wasn’t smart enough to have figured out that last fact himself, but missed the fact being close to Akechi would eventually out himself as the culprit. 

What could Akechi say? Secrets were a bitch, and Akechi could be petty too. 

Two, Akechi couldn't lie and say it had been difficult to accept Kurusu as his  _ leader _ especially since he had been trusted since he was thirteen to act on his own, even as Shido's subordinate. Working with a team was a  _ very  _ foreign concept, one that usually had him poking at Kurusu's decisions and struggling to take suggestions from him. From the little they had fought together already, Kurusu didn't even usually command as much as he had last night, usually letting the team's voices be heard and conclusions be reached before he decided anything, and for the most part leaving fighting styles up to them. But last night was a  _ heavy _ handed instruction practice for everyone, and Kurusu had kept Akechi in the front lines  _ the whole time.  _ From the top, to the six levels down as far as they could go, and then all. the. way. back. up.

Everyone else on the team got healed, everyone else got switched out and took breaks, but Akechi was fighting with Kurusu, always on. He realized it about the third section, and bit his tongue back to argue when Kurusu straight up denied his request to switch with Sakamoto.  _ NOT  _ because he was tired or weak or anything like that, just that it was important to conserve stamina for all team members if they really intended to run all way way top to bottom and back up. The worst part is it seemed the rest of the team was in on it too, because no one defended or healed him unless they had to. It… kind of hurt, and was a tad scary. The implicit trust they had in Kurusu as their leader was so absolute, he was curious if any of them wanted to question Joker as much as he did. If anyone else ever had. 

He was too tired to even argue by the time the team stepped back into LeBlanc. Akechi had realized his mistakes by then - they feared him enough to let him join the team and trusted enough to fight with them, but that didn't mean they had to like him. He thought since they were so friendly a bunch, they would accept him as easily as he'd won the public's hearts. But last night he was reminded that this group was formed by a bunch of scarred and scorned teenagers - the petty, pretty, leader with red gloves in particular. They were friendly because they shared deeper, more personal bonds with each other. He didn't have that with them. He forsook his bond with Kurusu, blackmailed, and forced his way in. Which... wouldn't do for his plans at all if they thieves wary of him. 

Kurusu had apologized and loaded up his team with healing goodies. Akechi was the last one out the door, with a large thermos full of his usual LeBlanc brew Kurusu had  _ insisted  _ he take with. Akechi had gone home and passed out, and woken up with a terrible stress headache and was suddenly immensely grateful for the coffee. 

But now he had a Sunday with  _ nothing _ to do (well… except homework and finishing the additional clarification questions report for that double-fanged murder demon case, which both sounded like a draining waste of time when he was either dead or living it up by the end of next month.) He did have an idea to help him gain Kurusu's trust back, but was unsure if it'd work now. 

**Kurusu Akira:** to answer multiple questions from you all  _ way _ too fucking early in the morning 

**Kurusu Akira:** like seriously why are you even up makato and akechi? (@ u)

**Kurusu Akira:** no we're not doing any phantom thief stuff today. relax. rest up. we'll go at it tuesday/wednesday. 

**Kurusu Akira:** however after, like, noon when boss is done with me I'm willing to hang if anyone wants. first come, first serve. 

And that right there at the end had Akechi  _ tempted.  _ It was the perfect opening to tie some ends off in this tangled friendship with him. But that would involve Akechi exposing a little bit more of himself and he was just  _ struggling _ with himself over it. He bunched the blankets around him a little tighter as he sat up against the wall drinking his lukewarm coffee. At this point lying was so much easier, he knew the web of lies he lived in like the back of his hand; it was easy to maintain. Except around Kurusu. Every time they had a conversation he always had the snarkiest, sarcastic answers for Akechi that told him Kurusu saw through his nice, pretty detective boy, facade. He knew Kurusu was hitting a steel wall when he looked through, but he still kept trying to chip away at Akechi all the same. He hated it.

_ You love the thief’s persistence,  _ Robin Hood chided. 

"You shut up," Akechi said to the empty air. 

_ You love it and the sooner you realize it the better you'll feel.  _

"So you keep telling me but what is the point in acknowledging my personal feelings at this stage?" 

_ Because you are deliberating over the choice to have the Maid Marian of pretty boys over? In your apartment? For an extended amount of time?  _

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure that pretty boy only has eyes for either Takamaki or Niijima, even if he's not made a move yet. And, in case you forgot, is also my next major target. Therefore the point is moot." 

A soft snicker broke through his train of thought.  _ All those fucking pointless words are, is the easy lie you tell yourself, pretty, stupid, Goro. You and I both know, he spends a little too long looking at you in that cafe. Imagine, with me, if you did get into his pants? The sweet trust he'd develop in you would be so perfect, that when you kill him, you’d perform the most utterly perfect betrayal!  _ Loki writhed in glee at the thought. Robin Hood shrunk inside his head. Goro had the sudden and immense desire to throw up the coffee he was chugging this morning. The pull of the two polar opposite personas would probably drive him mad someday (and when he acknowledged the truth that they are, in fact, just mirrors of himself, he probably already was.) 

"I'm petty, slightly sadistic, and a fucking liar, but I'm not a savage Loki," Akechi murmered. 

_ What, because you like him so much, and want him to rescue you too?  _ The god inside his head shrieked like a child. _ You wanna hold him, you wanna kiss him, you wanna…  _ Loki's singsong made him mad as he spilled the truth into Goro's soul. 

"Shut UP, shut UP, SHUT UP." Akechi clawed at his hair as the voice in his head started to churn into screaming laughter as he spoke the truths Akechi liked to ignore. Giggles started to escape from his mouth as tears of shame leaked from his eyes. Loki has this powerful way of overcoming him when he wanted to. As if it wasn't a facet off his own rebellious soul which had gained physical form, but rather a demon his soul was housing. Akechi supposed that was true too anyway - he himself was a demon, a monster. Only useful as a tool for someone else to win their game, to be thrown away, to be used, stupid, ugly, liar, trapped… 

_ Okay, we're not spending the free-est day we’ll ever see, in a literal millenia, letting Loki drown us in self pity.  _ A sweet of courage lifted in Akechi's breast and the tears and giggling stopped.  _ Be quiet or our goals won’t ever be achieved because you'll drive him mad.  _

_ Oh we would have stopped! He’s not ready to break… yet.  _

_ So you say.  _ Akechi wondered, idly, how Joker could house so many personas, and not go bonkers with that many voices in his head. Akechi took a couple deep breaths and forced his heart rate to slow down from his manic attack. 

"Okay I’m... I'm just gonna have a quiet day by myself." He mumbled it, honestly sad he was just gonna give up this idea. 

_ YOU SHOULD NOT WASTE THIS CHANCE.  _ Both his personas cried out and his soul shook. The synchronization of agreement between both of them and himself almost made him feel whole. Almost. Only if everyone had the same objective when it came to choosing this course of action. 

"FINE FUCK I'LL TEXT KURUSU." 

_ Oh finally, praise the great king.  _

_ Excellent, this should be good. _

"We are the worst, I swear. Both of you go do whatever you do when you're not bothering me." 

_ Sitting pretty and watching you fuck up,  _ Loki said.

_ Enjoy this stolen day off Goro _ , Robin Hood said. 

Then his head quieted except for the pounding ache in his frontal lobe. He got up, set the empty thermos down and reached for his phone. It was 11:39am. Kurusu would probably be checking his phone soon. He hoped none of the other thieves had already cornered him into plans. 

**You:** Good Morning Kurusu. I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer to spend time in your company today? I’d like to have you over. 

Akechi double checked the text and frowned at how automatically formal it was. He could have just said hang out. Whatever, he doubted Kurusu would say yes, since he didn’t seem keen on texting Akechi first these days anyway. He hit send and set the phone down. He'd take a shower maybe while he waited for a reply. As soon as he stepped out of the room he heard his phone vibrate. He flipped around, cursing his own excitement, and picked it up again. 

**Kurusu Akira:** sure. didn't expect you of all people to want to hang.

**Kurusu Akira:** thought you'd be the most dead after yesterday lol. also b/c everyone else is still slightly salty at me. 

**You:** I recover fairly quickly. I'm still not one hundred percent but I feel fine. 

**Kurusu Akira:** as you showed from your text at FIVE AM. what the hell man? 

**You:** I thought I had work at the police station this morning, and had to call and check in. But they're making me take a mandatory sick day. 

**Kurusu Akira:** a mandatory sick day? 

**You:** I never use them because I'm always technically working on a case, when I’m not at school.

**Kurusu Akira:** gotcha. i didn't know they did that sort of thing for part timers…?

_ Are you… are you really teaching Kurusu about your cover job right now? And being mostly honest? Again?  _ Akechi thought to himself. He fought down his nerves to keep typing. How weird it was that innocent questions like that always made Goro spill his little, personal beans to Kurusu. 

**You:** I'm a special case. I'm a salaried associate, working like a part time employee. That way I could afford to go to a nice school, and continue to live on my own. The government doesn't fund emancipated minors very well. The SUI director liked my skills enough to help me out when he hired me. His probable intent is for me to go full time after high school in repayment.

Akechi hit send and then realized that was a lot of personal to just lay on Kurusu. Fuck. "Special case?" The whole text just looked like he screaming for pity. He'd said too much. 

**Kurusu Akira:** i forget that you live on your own. where's ur address? 

Kurusu was such a good person. Akechi hit his head against the wall. Didn't call him out about anything personal he had shared, just the gentle acknowledgment of his situation and then moving on, for the  _ n _ th time in literally any of their conversations. Akechi quickly shared his address before he could regret it. 

**Kurusu Akira:** sweet. looks like I'll be there in an hour. cool? 

Akechi frowned. An hour? He must have other stuff to finish up. 

**You:** Sounds great. See you in an hour. 

Akechi plugged his phone back in, and hooked it up to a speaker to play music. He tried to ignore the small bit of excitement bubbling in his chest. He was officially hanging out with Kurusu for the first time since that school festival. Akechi had been witness to Akira's superb coffee and curry - but he wondered if Akira liked to bake? 

* * *

_ Nice. He doesn't live all that far away. _

Akira Kurusu smiled as he looked at his phone from where he was standing against the counter in LeBlanc. He shot a quick thumbs up to the secret group text. His plan to exhaust Akechi into opening back up was working, just as he had hoped it would. Granted it wasn't too hard - a pretty much full-time job, third year in school, under someone else's command to murder people, and trying to decieve the phantom thieves by participating at their busiest? 

Talk about stretched thin. It's any wonder he dropped the TV appearances. Akira's phone gave off multiple rings at once. 

**Futaba:** I've got his phone bugged so if he tries anything…

**You:** He won't get ahead of himself. He's too calculating for that. While I'm sure his invite today has it's ulterior motives, it's not to kill me. 

**Makato:** Don't hesitate to protect yourself, okay? I know you just want to help him but...

**Yusuke:** Er on the side of caution. 

**Ryuji:** I will beat that bitch up for you if necessary. 

**Ann:** Enjoy your date Akira! 

**Haru:** We're weaponized and ready if he doesn't get you home on time. :D

Akira rolled his eyes and hid his face in his hands. He shouldn't have told them a damn anything, but for what it's worth, they kept his heart in the right place. 

_ What, pray tell, does that make us? Severed livers?  _ Arsene and his nine other personas clucked at him, like a sitcom-timed, canned laugh. 

_ Of course not. You’re all my rebellious heart, are you not? _

_ Hmm, doesn’t entirely explain why you’ve fallen in love with someone as dangerous and off-limits as Goro Akechi,  _ Arsene poked.

_ Do I need to bring up Sherlock Holmes, Arsene?  _

_ Touche, young Joker.  _

"Should I hide in your bag and come with you?" Morgana asked next to him on the counter, interrupting the personas’ revelry. 

"No, you'd just suffocate in there. I don't know what Akechi is planning but it's likely I'll be there until this evening." 

"Joker, this could be really dangerous!" 

"I know. But getting what one-on-one’s with Akechi I can, is the only shot we have at seeing if it's possible to help him." 

"And if he does it all because he's actually evil?" 

"Then I curse my absolutely terrible taste in men, and continue to carry out the plan we're carrying out anyway. Nothing changes." 

"If you're sure. Don't lose your head in there." 

"Have I ever lost my cool ever?" He gave Morgana a smirk and rolled his eyebrows. 

"There's a first time for everything. Especially in close quarters, in  _ his _ apartment, with your stupid crush."

Akira gave Morgana his best deep sigh and earned a harsh swipe at his hand, claws and all. Akira chuckled. "Relax Morgana. My guts are steeled. Now move away from the coffee machine. I'm going to be late if I don't hurry now."

"It's almost scary how confident you are." Morgana said as he trot off the counter. 

* * *

Akechi had just started whipping the eggs and sugar together when he heard a soft knock at the door. His heartbeat picked up as he checked the clock on the stove. It had been one hour, sure enough, and Kurusu was exactly on time, as he said he'd be. His honesty was … endearing. Irritating. Akechi took a deep breath before reminding himself that he  _ wanted  _ Akira here, before he crossed the small space and opened the door. 

"Welcome to my humble abode." Akechi gestured to Kurusu, hand swept out in an extra little flair. 

"Thanks." Kurusu stepped through quickly and into Akechi's apartment, eager to escape the Tokyo chill outside. He was also eager to see into Akechi's private life. The first thing to catch Akira's eye was how clean everything was. Like it was a model home, not a place where someone lived. There weren't any pictures - just a couple weird decorative art pieces that had splashes of random colors of paint on them, to contrast the white walls. A small living room was to his left, a loveseat sofa, a window seat that looked out into the street and a tv on a stand, with everything closed into white drawers beneath it. White couches had throw pillows that matched the paintings colors. Cold, dark wood on the floors. There was a kitchen to his right with just an open island, and a hallway down the middle to probably a bedroom and a bathroom. He slipped his shoes off to be polite. 

"Wow, swanky." Akira complimented. 

"I would say thank you, but I had no hand in choosing anything. I let the landlord decorate since I've used the extraneous living spaces maybe once since my stay here." 

"I should have your landlord come decorate my place. I let my landlord do mine, and I ended up living in boxes of junk and cobwebs for the first couple weeks." Akira poked his tongue out teasing Akechi, who just rolled his eyes, and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Alright, but you live in an attic storage space above a cafe." 

"Okay, but that was literally not my choice." 

"Alright, but you could have also not caused a scene by punching someone in the face, and been put on parole in Tokyo, which is crowded enough." Akechi meant it as a tease, but his smirk faltered as he looked back at Kurusu's face, which had fallen, upset and frustrated.

"Not, okay man. You know that's not what happened." he muttered. 

"Sorry." Akechi looked down, just a little sheepish.

"It's just - that will probably always be a sore spot." Akira sighed. "I'm not offended, but, ouch."

"I - I get that," Akechi offered, "I'm sorry for my tasteless joke. With your confidence, it seemed like it was something you were easily over." 

"Nah, there's some extra emotional baggage there still." Kurusu said. He straightened up with a smile, stretching and drawing Akechi's eyes to his stomach where a brief view of his toned stomach appeared. "Not something I meant to drag through your door today, and you didn't mean it." He shrugged off his gray jacket, revealing the plain long sleeve shirt underneath. Akechi watched tantalized by the low collar that let him see the sharp cut of Kurusu's collarbones. Before he could linger there too long Kurusu spoke up once more, "What did you want to do today?" 

"Oh," Akechi shook his head trying to focus, "I was planning on baking cookies and thought I'd like your company."

"Really? I thought you said to Kasumi the taste for sweets was just a media thing?" Kurusu's face split into a grin so wide, like a cat that had caught it's bird. 

“Kasumi… oh.”  _ Fuck, I forogt about that conversation!  _ “Well… yes and no. I didn’t mean to give the impression I hated all sweets. I just don’t actually care for the cheap candy and chocolates fan seem to insist gifting me, but don’t want to insult.” 

“Mmhmm, sure. So the cooking thing was a lie as well?”

“No!” Akechi responded a little too quickly and indignantly. “I... am sure if I tried to make your curry I would burn the water, somehow. But cookies are easy enough to not mess up. The recipe is exact and all I have to do is follow it.”

“Whatever mask you have to wear for whomever, honey." Kurusu snickered behind his palm. 

"I'm still not sure why you find your personal little nickname for me amusing, or what you are trying to dig at, but I'm going to ignore it." Akechi rolled his eyes as Kurusu's palm dropped and turned into an honest laugh. It's was kicking up butterflies in his stomach that made him grimace. "Put your coat on the rack please and wash your hands." 

"Okay, okay."

Akechi returned to the kitchen and went back to beating the eggs and sugars. The beater hit the edge of the bowl with just a little more force than necessary as Akechi tried to swallow his feelings. He had been very sure that it would be more tense when Kurusu came through the door, and he was both relieved and wary of how naturally their banter had fallen into place like nothing had changed at all. 

Akira did as he was told and joined Akechi in the kitchen. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and waited for the water to turn warm to wash them, taking the time to observe. The kitchen seemed just as clean as the living area, but there was more to it that suggested it was lived in more often. Apples were crowded in a basket next to where he was washing his hands, a microwave in one corner. With how tidy Akechi seemed, there were random cupboards seemingly left open. There was a hodgepodge of dishes in one, ramen and other instant dishes in another. As he got to drying his hands his gaze turned to Akechi who was scraping up the sides of his bowl to make sure everything was mixed. His concentration was evident in the small furrow between his brows, his own white shirt sleeves rucked up to his elbows, hair falling around his face. The island was littered with ingredients, sure that Akechi was the kind of baker to get everything out first, make sure all his ducks were in a row. All the ducks except Kurusu himself. With a mischievous grin he wound the towel around in a tight spiral, ready to crack it at Akechi, wondering if he'd drop the bowl. 

"Don't even think about it, Thief." Akechi threw his head over his shoulder, and Akira startled and laughed, hanging the towel back up.

"Aw, you're no fun." 

"On the contrary, however, my idea of fun is about making as  _ little _ mischief as possible, and involves you turning the oven to 375 degrees and measuring twenty-four ounces of flour into this bowl, as well as the rest of the dry ingredients." He slid Kurusu the recipe. 

"Hmmf sure. Why cookies?" Kurusu moved to follow Akechi’s instruction for the oven.

"I just really wanted cookies this morning." Akechi kept his head down into his bowl where he kept measuring wet ingredients, unaware of Kurusu watching him as he returned to the counter. Akira couldn't help but smile at how much of a real kid Akechi sounded like in that moment. It was refreshing and made his heart swell a little that he trusted him with that confession. 

"Why not just go buy some?" 

"Mmm, because for once I have a day to myself without work or school, and these are better than store-bought confections."

"Wet, and then dry and then… oh this part is in English?" Kurusu stared dumbfounded at the recipe. It was a handwritten copy, and it was half in Japanese and half in English. "What kind of cookies are these?" 

"American chocolate chip. Some of the terms don't carry over, and so I translated what I could when I was younger, but I can read the rest now." 

"American hm? They must be incredibly sweet then." Kurusu made a little gagging noise, as he measured the flour carefully into a bowl, and then reached for the salt.

"What, do  _ you _ not like sweets?" Akechi asked, teasing back and panicking a little.  _ Shit, aren't most teenage boys supposed to like sweets and junk food?  _ Akechi panicked a little on the inside, hoping Kurusu wouldn't turn his nose up to his treat.  _ I mean… why do I even care? They were originally for me anyway. He doesn't have to like them. I just need to talk with him and gain his trust back.  _ The heat from the stove was starting to warm the room up a bit. 

"I don't normally," Kurusu answered, reaching across the island for a clean whisk to put all the dry ingredients together. "It depends. Really sweet things tend to give me a headache."

"Then you might like these," Akechi tried. "They're more bittersweet." 

"Bittersweet…?" 

"It's like…" Akechi searched for a way to describe it. "The vanilla and semi-sweet chocolate chips cut through the sugar so it's about flavor rather than eating sugar." 

"I see. Well then I'm excited to try. Especially from someone as sweet as you." Kurusu smiled at him and Akechi's heart stuttered, mind scrambled. If he didn't know better he'd be suffering his own mental shutdown and Joker just pulled the trigger in one critical hit of a compliment.  _ It wasn’t even good, why am I getting messed up over it. Damn. Am I really that tired?  _ He felt heat rush to his face, and Kurusu laughed. Akechi started grasping at straws to explain his sudden flustered emotions. 

"Ha, let it be known that all you need to fluster the great, detective Akechi Goro, is a simple, gooey compliment!" Akechi reached across and smacked Kurusu on the arm. 

"Fuck you. I'm not flustered, I'm mad." He said, sounding every bit like a scorned girlfriend.  _ Whatever. How on Earth am I supposed to keep my crafted character up when he pulls all the heartstrings I didn’t even know I had!? _

"Ooh mad is it? What on Earth for?" Kurusu said in a way that implied he did not believe Akechi one bit. 

"You just … called me a headache!"  _ Yes there was something.  _ "Rude." 

"A headache?"

"Yes, didn't you just say 'sweet things' give you a headache?" Akechi looked at Kurusu with the best frustrated pout he could muster, hoping he looked every bit like the sincerely scorned girlfriend. It worked if the slight blush on Akira's face was any proof, along with the few beats of silence in which Akechi watched him wrack his brain. 

"Well, I mean… damn. Cornered me, secrets out."  _ Akechi one, Kurusu zero,  _ Akechi confidently thought. 

"I'm hurt, Kurusu-kun."

"Now you know I drink so much caffeine." Kurusu supplied.

"Excuse me?"

"Now you know I drink so much caffeine," he repeated, "since I've met you. It keeps the headaches at bay."

"I'm  _ that much  _ of a headache for you?" 

"Cause you're always on my mind…  _ sweetie. _ " 

Akechi spluttered and the red he had banished from his face quickly returned. Kurusu watched in barely contained giggly glee as the blush this time ran from the top of his head, to his collarbones. Akechi  _ hated  _ him,  _ haaaaaated him.  _ He collapsed his head into the counter and buried his face in his arms while Kurusu laughed, carefree. His chest felt all light and funny, and his face felt like he could cook the cookies on it. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to smack the fake glasses of Kurusu's face. He wanted to snuggle into his neck and hear those nice pet names murmured into his ears all day. He wanted to cry at what he couldn't,  _ couldn _ 't, let himself have. He wanted to cry at how crumbled his detective prince persona was around Kurusu. He wanted to strangle himself for letting it fall pretty much the minute Akira walked through the door into his personal life. He wanted to go take a nap to fix the sheer emotional exhaustion from running around Mementos yesterday. Wetness gleaned across his eyes and he felt himself start to laugh, Loki flexing within him when he started to feel too many things and wasn't able to process them. Distantly he heard the beep on the oven declare it was hot enough to cook cookies now, as well as help the room heat up more that was reasonable. 

"Okay, I'm really sorry Akechi." Akira laughed wiping tears from his eyes and putting a hand on Akechi's shoulder. "I'll stop teasing." Akechi rose from the counter, giggling and trying to keep his head on. He had it so  _ bad _ for this boy. He wiped the matching tears from his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. 

"Damn you and your terrible puns Kurusu. Do you tease anybody else like this?" Akechi hated how whiny his voice sounded. 

"Nah not really, though Ryuji and Yusuke get a few barb's now and then. But Ryuji knows it's because he's being insufferable, and it mostly goes over Yusuke's head." 

"None of the girls?" Akechi noticed out loud. 

"No, because I'd like to think I am kind of smart. I know full well any of them could take me down themselves. I'd be dead if I tried." 

"Then why me?" 

"Because you take yourself so seriously, it's pretty easy." 

"Only because I ought to. You should try it sometime." 

"What take you seriously?" Kurusu shifted into his shit-eating grin, breaking his promise to stop teasing.

"What a concept, right Kurusu?” The joking prod snapped the proverbial camel burdened by Akechi’s mental and emotional weight. The plastic spatula in his hand became a weapon, poised at Kurusu like a threat. “Like the fact I  _ do _ know what I'm doing in the Metaverse and don't need an idiotic and grueling training to prove it to  _ you _ . Or that I do things like bake, because I've had to learn how to  _ fend  _ for  _ me, _ by  _ myself _ . Or accepting that I  _ alone  _ was clever enough to catch you, when little anybody else in my precinct thought to look into Shujin students before it was too late.” Kurusu’s face fell as he ranted, voice practically growling, challenging. “Like the fact I'm letting your little group get away after this when I have proof enough to turn you in anytime I wanted. Taking me seriously that  _ MY  _ justice WILL win the end. But you know,  _ what the fuck do I know?  _ I'm just a popular pretty face to use for entertainment it seems." Akechi let his frustration at this whole situation leak into the last sentence. The emotional exhaustion was hitting its peak and he had  _ had _ it with Akira's consistent teasing. He was supposed to have the upper hand here, he was supposed to be leashing Kurusu, he was supposed to be the one with confidence and directing the game, in his space especially. He had to get the upper hand back. If letting his true anger leak through was the way to do it, then so be it.  _ Maybe I just ought to kill him here and now.  _ If he hadn't glanced at it, Akechi would have thought the oven had set the room on fire, his anger hot enough to turn him into an arsonist. 

Akira looked at the angry boy, ready to take his life away from him with the spatula. It should be funny, but Akira couldn’t find it within himself to see it as anything other than a solid threat. The silence between them weighed heavily down on the atmosphere, despite the jazz playing from the speaker in the background. The dry ingredients were still separate from the wet, a parched, dry conscious kept aloof from the heavy guilt and pain whipped soul. Akira wished he could just tell Akechi he knew - but not without potentially getting him murdered this afternoon. Not that it seemed his current course would prevent that outcome either. He had taken advantage of his exhaustion too far. But Akira had the intel he needed. Akechi Goro had definitely chosen to drop his guard in his own space, and Akira was all the wiser for it. Akechi was no different from any of your team. Akira couldn't help but see the lonely abandoned kid trying desperately to change his circumstances and bring justice to those who hurt him, and closure to himself. And in this streak of barely concealed anger Akira could see why it drove him to his current murderous path.  _ What happened to you Goro? You see what we can do, why won't you ask for help?  _ The questions sat on his tongue, but Akira knew now was not the time to ask. Akechi wouldn't be reasonable and just offer up the answers just because he asked. But hopefully he'd take a peace offering. 

"I'm sorry Akechi, you're right." Akira looked him dead in the eyes with as much kindness and sincerity he could muster. Akechi's anger didn't drop and he didn't say anything to Kurusu's olive branch. He was debating whether or not to burn it and Kurusu along with it. Kurusu continued. 

"We underestimate you a lot. I should probably thank you more often for not immediately sending my ass back to juvie, and dragging everyone else down with me," he said, pulling his most personal card, "I'm not going to lie, it scares me sometimes that you were willing to make a deal that helps us in the first place. Up until yesterday, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop." 

"Up until yesterday?" Akechi said seeing the bite, knowing what it was, and taking it.

"After seeing you fight yesterday, I got pretty excited at how powerful you are." Akira began to choose his words carefully. He knew full well that Akechi's little rant was part truth and part lie, and so would his side be. "It was a test, you're right. But I did take it farther than I originally meant. Finally fighting with someone who keeps up with me, I was determined to see if you could take the heat, like all our chess games, our billiards games, our darts games. And you did, with flying colors. But I was afraid if I communicated that, it would destroy the chance I had to see what decisions you'd make naturally. To see that you really do mean it, to fight with us because you care about more about Sae, than turning us in." 

Akechi's shoulders dropped, along with the spatula, and he broke eye contact to ponder Kurusu's statement as he gazed over the ingredients on the counter. He hoped that the now room temp eggs and sugar mixture hadn't warmed too much. The cookies might be stickier than intended. A little extra flour would probably do the trick. Akechi hated how much Kurusu's apology made sense for Kurusu. "...Okay."

Akira sighed. "Wait right here. I forgot something. Though I think I'm glad I didn't lead with this." Kurusu left the kitchen to dig in his black bag he'd left on the couch, standing out starkly against the white. He pulled out a large black thermos, much like the one he had handed Akechi yesterday evening. Akechi's eyebrows raised as Kurusu came around the corner and offered it to him. 

"More of your favorite brew. Since I knew yesterday was difficult, and you're probably still exhausted. Also sorry I'm an ass. Also sorry, though there's not much I have to do with it, for the adults who chose and still choose to make your life a living hell." Akechi carefully took the thermos from Kurusu. What had Akechi thought earlier?  _ His honesty was … endearing. Irritating. _

"Thanks," Akechi sighed and looked at Kurusu tiredly. 

"Friends?" Akira offered, smiling.

_ Had we ever actually been to begin with?  _ Akechi thought. Whatever, that was his goal anyway. If he said yes, that means he won. The heat scorching Akechi's heart and mind cooled. 

"Sure. Though I think coffee dealer and coffee dependant is a more accurate depiction of our relationship." 

"Mind you that I'm addicted to my own brew, because of you, so it's a mutual feeling." 

"Wonderful." Akechi said, sipping the  _ blessed  _ coffee that Akira handed him, and turned away in order to get back to the cookies. His walls came down enough to return this to a friendly endeavor, tempted to put up the pleasant mask he wore for TV,  _ just  _ so he might make it through this evening in one piece. 

"So what do we do next to get cookies. I can't read the English part here." Kurusu asked, returning to the original quest. 

"It says to put all the ingredients together. So here, hold your bowl, and stir carefully while I pour these wet ingredients in." 

"Okay." Kurusu kept to task as Akechi spilled the wet ingredients to join the flour. The mixture started to clump and cream together, and sure enough the dough looked just a little too sticky.  _ What a mess,  _ Akechi thought.  _ What a mess Akira Kurusu has made of me.  _ Carefully he pulled the flour pot toward himself and added a few tablespoons at a time. 

"Did I not measure out enough?" Kurusu aksed. 

"You did, but the eggs and the sugar melted together because the oven has made it so hot in here. Adding flour will lighten the dough so hopefully it's not too sticky." 

Akira held back his  _ Are you sure the heats not because of you?  _ joke. 

"Okay. That's actually pretty cool." Kurusu complimented. 

"Just don't stop stirring," Akechi admonished. 

"You got it." 

Akechi added just a little bit more flour and then pulled out a brown bottle and splashed in just as much brown liquid. The gentle music filled the space between them comfortably as Akechi ripped open a foreign looking yellow bag and dumped the whole contents in. 

"Woah - the chocolate?" Akira asked and he struggled to stir the heavy batter. The chunky chocolate didn't help, but he had to admit it looked pretty good, almost like he could eat it now. 

"Yup. I spoil myself and go to the American market to get them. They are some of my favorites." Akechi smiled, a genuine, if small, smile, and Akira's heart leapt again for the nth time. Akira watched as Akechi reached beneath the stove to pull out two flat metal pans, and gave one to him. 

"Okay, stop stirring.”

“Is the batter done?” 

“It is. Now we just spoon it onto these sheets. God, I am so ready to have cookies.” Akechi pulled out two spoons and handed one to Akira. They arranged so both pans fit on the small counter space, and then Akira watched Akechi as he reached into the batter - which somehow reminded Akira of ice cream - and pulled out about half a spoon. The lump was scooped into his hand and formed into a sort of ball before dumped onto the pan.  _ Okay, seems easy enough _ , Akira thought. He tried to copy Akechi - and quickly found himself wrecking his hands, and the dough ball.

“Ugh this is so sticky,” Akira muttered. 

Akechi looked over and barked out a laugh. Akira’s hands were covered in cookie dough and the balls were mashed lumps. Compared to his own neat little pan, Akira’s looked like a shadow had exploded all over it. 

“Oh shut up Akechi. How do you make this look so easy?” Akechi continued to chuckle at Akira’s bewilderment, pleased to see what he hoped was Kurusu’s walls come down a bit at his inability to master a simple task.  _ Trash, can't be good at everything. _ Akechi saw his opening. 

“Practice makes perfect, honey.” A wicked smile crossed his face as the bewilderment moved from cookies to Akechi. A blush gave away his frustration now that Akechi was able to tease, but Akira wasn’t. 

_ That’s it,  _ both thought, at the same time, but with different ideas in mind. 

Akira donned his Joker grin, and took his current handful of cookie dough and launched it at Akechi.  _ Take that you pretty, two-faced, hypocrite, fucker,  _ he thought. It hit Akechi square in the nose, who gasped in surprise. 

_ What the hell!?  _ Akechi thought. He smiled at the thought of retaliation, already halfway through launching his own cookie dough ball at Akira’s face. It smacked Akira’s cheek and landed on the floor, but not without leaving a greasy chocolate smear. Akira laughed, already on the counterattack, sprinting toward Akechi rubbing cookie dough across his already messy hands. Akechi shrieked and ducked his first advance and rolled under the island counter, protecting his cookie dough ball in his hands. Akira was right behind him, and Akechi had to roll again to keep from said sticky hands. Akechi sprung up and found his back against the loveseat, Akira quick and trapping him. Akira reached his hands for Akechi’s hair, as Akechi sought to smoosh his dough ball in Akira’s face. In a quick move Akechi found his left wrist trapped in Akira’s sticky grip, and his own right hand stopping Akira’s left. They tried to pull away from each other but their strengths were evenly matched. 

“Check,” Akechi laughed.

“Joke’s on you, I’ve been practicing.” Akira leaned in and Akechi noticed that the loveseat’s back was too low for him to keep a strong center of balance, the edge digging just below mid thigh. Akira got up close and smirked in Akechi’s face, pushing. Akechi crumbled, and felt himself topple over the edge of the couch. In a vengeful moment Akechi strengthened his grip on Akira’s wrist, and kicked at his knee on the same side, taking him down with him. The extra slip of his socked feet on the wood floor and Akira’s sudden weight pushed him backward farther than the cushions. 

Akechi visualized his trajectory.  _ Shit. I’m going to crack my head on the floor. _

_ Shit, he’s going to crack his head on the floor.  _ Akira let go of Akechi’s wrist and used what little leverage he had left to reach forward and place his hand behind Akechi’s head. Seeing his opening Akechi took the dough ball and smashed it across Akira’s glasses, as they both felt the impact of gravity on Akechi’s head and Akira’s hand. 

They stilled for a moment, breathing heavy. Akechi found himself, the small of his back perpendicular to the edge of the cushions, shoulders and head on the floor, legs tangled with Akira, who had managed to avoid falling directly on top of him. His head found cushion in Akechi’s shoulder, torso twisted away, and arm outstretched behind his head. Protecting Akechi from the floor. Akechi still had a death grip on his wrist, clutched to his chest. Akira was the first to move. 

He twisted away to fall over the arm of the loveseat, making Akechi let his wrist go. Akechi slid farther down, letting Akira’s hand go, shifting until they found themselves facing one another on the floor. 

“Is your head okay?” Akira asked. 

“Yeah. Your hand?” Akechi answered back quietly. 

“It should be okay. Oh man you got me pretty good.” Akira took off his glasses and raised them up to observe. They had been obliterated with cookie dough. 

“Fair is fair, fool. I just washed my hair.” Akechi pouted and ran his hand through his hair, where cookie dough had been smeared in it from Akira’s cushioning. “Thank you, though. You saved me a trip to the hospital, probably.”

“No problem, was my fault anyway.” 

“True.” Akechi couldn’t find anymore words, exhaustion and the headbang ringing through his head. He was… 

… so. Happy? Confused. Distraught. That he’d let himself just,  _ go _ , like that over a... a rather childish competition. Gods, he must be tired. He sighed and laid back flat against the floor. 

Akira watched Akechi float back down to the floor. He scooted himself over so he sat next to Akechi’s head. His eyes were closed, face carefully blank, hair fanned out from his head, almost halo-like in the late afternoon light.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Akira whispered. 

Akechi turned to look Akira in the eyes, his glasses hung at the edge of the collar of his shirt.  _ No. I’m emotionally compromised, because the thief I was supposed to catch stole my heart instead. And I don't want to be the one responsible for stealing the light behind your stormcloud eyes.  _

“I’m upset about the cookie dough in my hair, and the lack of cookies in my mouth,” is what came out instead. 

Akira chuckled. “Well, I’ll behave then, because I also want cookies.”

“Finally, should have made you promise to behave before I ever invited you over.” 

Both boys stood up, Akira careful to not get cookie dough anywhere else, and Akechi surveying the damage. Cookie dough was easy enough to clean he supposed, so he wasn’t too concerned. It looked like there was just a little on the floor, missing the couch, and mostly all over themselves. 

“You can use the bathroom at the end of the hall to wash your glasses and hands off. I’ll finish cookies really quick and get a batch in the oven.” 

“Okay.” Akira headed toward the bathroom. Akechi quickly washed his hands in the kitchen sink, and rubbed the dish rag over his face to take away any of the lingering cookie dough. He pulled a ponytail out of a nearby drawer, slung his hair up, and then quickly turned to the cookie pans. His was almost done, and so with a few new cookie dough balls, he popped them in the oven, and then set to fix Akira’s mess of a sheet. He’d wash his hair again later after Akira had left. 

Akira’s breath caught quietly in his throat as he came from the hallway and saw Akechi laboring over his cookie pan, hair up, with little wet tufts falling around his face.  _ So cute... _ he thought. 

Arsene and nine other personas cackled at him.  _ Damn you’ve got it bad boy.  _

“Take the dish rag and go wipe up what cookie dough you find in the living room.” Akechi didn’t look up from the pan where the mashed and sticky mess Akira had made of the cookies ( _ of his heart _ ) turned into the neat little rows. Akira quietly followed his host’s direction cleaning up the mess Akechi made of the couch ( _ of his heart, _ ) returning it into its model home status. The playlist Akechi had been playing since Akira came in was long since over, the silence of cleaning up and the smell of chocolate chip cookies filling the air instead. Akira stood back up from wiping up the last of the grimy handprints on the floor, and saw Akechi, back to him, leaning against the counter watching the stove, the next tray of cookies ready to go. He went back to the sink, rinsed out the rag, and then took up position next to him, staying silent. 

Akechi didn’t acknowledge him, quiet half lidded eyes on the oven. Akira wondered for the millionth time today what was going through his head. He hoped he wasn’t too upset. He should ask. He really didn’t want to hurt the tentative relationship he already had with Akechi. It was moments like this that brought them so much closer, before Akechi pulled himself away and threw up a hundred more walls to break down. 

Akechi’s head fell onto his shoulder, effectively ending his own line of thought. 

“Sorry for the food fight,” Akira found coming out of his mouth.

“Thank you for it,” Akechi’s smiled reflected at him from the black oven stove door, stopping Akira’s heart altogether, “That was the most childish thing I’ve done in a long time. I needed it. I’ve never gotten to do fun and stupid shit like that.” 

“Then you’re welcome. Any other stupid shit you wanna do while I’m here?”

_ Oh all sorts of stupid things, but a good majority of them inappropriate.  _ “Actually, yes.” Akechi lifted his head off of Akira’s shoulder. “The next best thing to baked cookies is the cookie dough.” He took a spoon, pulled out a big hunk of cookie dough and shoved it in his mouth. Akira watched him take the spoon out of his mouth, smearing it across his lips. He dipped the spoon back in and pulled out a small hunk, offering it to Akira. The realization of where that spoon had been made Akira’s lizard brain freeze. 

“Don’t... um… the raw eggs make it dangerous or something, cause you can get sick?” Akira asked. 

“It has yet to get me,” he said swallowing his mouthful, “Why, you afraid? I thought you liked danger, Akira?” He smirked and Akira’s mind went a hundred terrible places all at once, as his given name rolled like sugar off Akechi’s tongue. 

Akira swallowed the urge to shove the spoon aside and crash his mouth into Akechi’s to lick the dough from them. Instead, he grabbed the hand with the spoon Akechi offered and brought it to his mouth. Akechi didn’t let go of the spoon and Akira didn’t let go of Akechi’s hand. He kept eye contact as he made sure to give the cookie dough a few rather slow and dramatic licks, before popping it all in his mouth with a soft hum of appreciation. Akechi stopped noticeably breathing. Akira puckered and sucked all the cookie dough off the spoon that had just been in Akechi’s mouth. Panic lit behind the other’s irises, and Akira knew he was emoting the same, but forced himself to get close to his rival’s, his friend’s, his crush's face,  _ daring _ him to say something about it. To  _ do _ something about the unbearable heat in this small kitchen.

Neither dared breathe, or break eye contact. As far as this stupid flirting game had gotten, this was the closest they had ever gotten to damning the whole thing. Akira really wanted to see that line in the sand he’d been toeing obliterated by the sheer tide of need he held back everytime Goro was around. Goro  _ had to _ be feeling it too, but his dam was stronger, and Akira knew if his didn’t break first it would never work. 

Goro couldn’t think. The sensation to puke reared its ugly head again. His stomach was a monarch migration, his ears wasps nests of noise. How many times had he almost lost to Akira today, and now he couldn’t find a single reason to keep fighting against the flood of desire Akira trapped him with. It made him want. It made him feel guilty, and sick, and sad.

The timer went off for the cookies making both of them jump backward from each other like they’d been caught, spoon clattering to the ground. 

Both boys’ suddenly moved in the kitchen with purpose, faces bright red ( _ definitely because of the oven and the heat of the apartment, _ they both thought.) Steadying himself Goro reached for an oven mitt and carefully pulled out cookies and set them on the counter. Akira reached down and once again cleaned cookie dough off the floor, setting the spoon in the sink. His mind was racing, personas clattering, worried, heart fragile.  _ That was so dumb, so risky. No wonder he wants to shoot me. I want to shoot me right now. _

_ That was dumb. Very dumb. Aren’t you supposed to be smart? You should have pulled away sooner. You should have pulled away sooner a hundred different times today. This can’t happen again. You’re too close now, you have to create some distance.  _ Goro schooled his face, and determinedly focused on filling up the next tray and getting it in the oven. Akira, dish rag already in hand from cleaning up more of the mess he’d made today, gathered the used cooking dishes and started to wash. He was good at it, he liked doing it at Leblanc, and it kept him from looking at Goro and making a further mess of an already tangled situation. Goro seemed determined to do the same. 

Goro, at some point shortly after they assigned themselves to their roles began to play music again, jazz drifting through the apartment. 

After a couple minutes more, Akira trusted himself to speak. “You’re right; cookie dough is really good.” He tried to say it as carefully lighthearted as possible, hoping it would diffuse the situation. 

Goro let out the biggest sigh Akira had ever heard, “You have zero tact Akira.”

“I just thought you’d like to know you’re right Goro.”

“Thank you, I usually am.” 

Akira smiled a private little smile to himself over the dirty dishes, pleased that he got away with calling Goro his first name, even as they lapsed back into silence. It was comfortable. It breathed like the moments at Leblanc, when Goro brought a novel to read, instead of wanting to talk, and Akira could glance up once in awhile from cooking or cleaning to admire his profile. 

Akechi smiled his own little private smile over the last tray of cookie dough, that he was continuing to get away with calling Akira his first name, and Akira had used his name. It felt like the moments at Leblanc, when he didn’t trust himself to talk, so brought a book as a shield, so he’d have an excuse to glance up every once in awhile, to admire Akira’s profile. 

The irony that Goro was the one providing food this time was not lost on Goro, as he handed Akira the empty bowl. He hoped that for whatever reason Akira decided to accept his invitation today, that he found what he was looking for. Goro succeeded after all, by making a damn fool of himself, so, it should shake Akira off his tail looking forward to the unfortunate next couple weeks. He cracked open a container and began placing cookies in it for Akira to take with him. 

Akira dried his hands, and joined Goro across the island. “For the record,” he began, “in case it wasn’t clear. I’m glad you’re my friend.”  _ Even though you won’t let me in so we can get behind whoever is pulling your strings. _

“Then, also for the record, I return the sentiment.”  _ Even if I can’t bring myself to call you one because of the assholes pulling my strings. _

Goro handed Akira the container of cookies, and put a napkin with a couple fresh ones on top. “I hope you like them, they should stay good for about a week, but they get more crumbly the longer you wait.” 

“Thank you.” Akira smiled and took a bite of the fresh one on top. It absolutely melted in his mouth, sweet but not sugary, and if he didn’t know any better, he was willing to bet they’d be some of the best stamina replenishers he could find for metaverse missions. “I may never get sick of telling you you’re right, because these are so fucking good.” Akira shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth. He was gonna have to bring some of them with him to Sae’s palace on Tuesday. 

“I’m glad.” Goro said, a happy hum settling in his heart that Akira did like the cookies, after all. “But you better not stay longer. It’s starting to get dark, and the trains stop running early on the weekend.” 

* * *

**Ann:** Well…

**Futaba:** He hasn’t been online in hours, he’s probably still over there.

**Ann:** I know, I just want him to see I expect details when he does see this!

**You:** (Read 5:52pm)

**Ann:** I can see that read! Time to tell all! Did you get any closer?

**You:** well… closer is definitely one way to put it. 

**Makoto:** Would you like to elaborate or are you inferring that we would rather *not* know?

**You:** i arrived, he showed me how to bake cookies, but it’s all the same as before. 

**Haru:** I feel like there’s much more to today’s interaction, than you’re sharing.

**Ann:** Wait, back up… COOKIES!? CUTE!!!

**You:** RIGHT!?

**You:** you’re right haru. it’s like i’m staring down the angriest possible, timid shadow pleading for it’s life on the verge of discovering it’s part of the sea of souls and not bound to whatever bullshit palace owner he’s currently trapped under. but he just won’t… just won’t let himself surrender. doesn’t matter what tactic i use.

**You:** we laughed and argued and yelled and now we’re friends again, in the same stupid, hesitant, kind of way we were before, and i hate it and i wish i had just kissed him because now i’ll probably eat his bullet before i get to feel how soft his mouth looked. 

**Ryuji:** Dude, I know we asked you to be honest, but TM fucking I

**Futaba:** ^

**Yusuke:** That is quite a passionate phrasing, but it’s very much lacking the confidence you had this morning. 

**Makoto:** Akira’s atrocious taste in men aside, let’s get back to the matter at hand…

Akira sighed and flipped his phone over. The attic was quiet, Morgana in his lap, and his mind spinning smooth and wistful phrasings and fantasies.  _ Blood Wedding _ sat in front of him, and with everything going on he hadn’t really had the chance to read it. His teacher wouldn’t know, but he really, really wasn’t in the mood for tragic romances right now. Goro sending him home early was a bit of a blessing because now he had time to study. He had thought about sparknoting it, but with his friends blowing up his phone, he didn’t have a chance. 

He picked the book back up, resigning himself to misery but at least his friends knew and would keep him company. 

_ “ _ **_Leonardo:_ ** _...To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves....” _

* * *

Akechi’s apartment was perfectly clean, and silent again. The only difference was the smell of fresh cookies. He’d devoured eight in a single go, like a child. Robin Hood and Loki were quiet. He was quiet. He had a pretty boy in his apartment all afternoon, who liked him (he was certain of it) and he’d had fun and experienced pain in equal measure, and it had drained him. Now he lay upside down on the same loveseat Akira had knocked him over earlier, letting his mind run through any random thought that filtered in. He was really very tired. Shido had left a message. He didn’t want to know what it said. There was also the impending deadline for his English assignment, but it seemed insignificant still, so he didn’t care. He found any excuse to skip that class.

It was on some dumb tragic play called  _ Blood Wedding _ , and it was written by a spanish author, so he wasn’t sure why they were studying it in a English literature class. He was pretty sure the bleach blonde, student teacher was some hopeless romantic, which is probably why. And because it was a tragic romance, and he was a male idol, all the girls wanted to hear his opinion. Which. Just disgusting, to be honest. He vaguely recalled one line they badgered him over and spent a whole class period discussing over a week ago, 

_ “To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” _

Lorca was damn right, even if the nitwits in his class couldn’t grasp it. It wasn’t good advice about chasing after the person you’re in love with. It wasn’t about chasing dreams and finding success. Or in any way remotely similar to the common phrase “live life without regrets.” 

The line was about pure and simple destruction, which was not the answer he’d given in class. It was about chasing, only to find loss was inevitable and unavoidable. It was about a choice, to lose and let another person rip your future away from you, or to trust only yourself. It was about accepting that keeping it buried, 0to yourself, was the worst, but a necessary part of progress. That choice meant either life or death in the play after all, and it was a tragic play. Goro’s chest thumped painfully at the thought; the presence of his own heartbeat was making him sick to his stomach. 

Stupid, stupid dough spoon. Idiot, idiot Goro. He should have just kissed him. Akira would eat his bullet, before Goro would ever get to feel if his mouth was as warm as it had looked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Confessional time: One) I’ve never read the Blood Wedding, just seen other’s college presentations for it. It’s on the miles long reading list somewhere. Two) I wanted to finish this for Interrogation Room Day, but better laid plans have laid men to waste. So. Three) I started writing this way, way, before the Royal came out, so a) of course I went back to edit for all the new sweet akeshu food, and b) Atlus can pry the fact that Akechi has a sweet tooth and can bake from my cold dead hands. He needs something nice for himself, come on Atlus.


End file.
